You Were Always So Far Away
by frecklefacehunter
Summary: There's so much more to the Winchesters than meets the eye. When Dean shows up to get Sam, old memories come back to him. Does Sam remember them or did he forget his time with Dean all together? Will Dean ever get back the Sam he really wants? Wincest


**Title: **You Were Always So Far Away

**Chapter Title: **I Need to Feel You Close

**Number: **1/1

**Spoilers: **Season 1

**Warnings: **Wincest, language, angst

**Author's Note: **I don't really ship Wincest now, but I wrote this one-shot a long time ago and I like it still, so I wanted to post it. Hope you all like it and I'd love some reviews!

* * *

When Dean broke into Sam's apartment that night, he didn't think things all the way through. He knew it was a bad idea, considering Sam's history was the same as his and his fighting skills were just as good, but the closer he had gotten to his brother, the more his heart jumped around his chest, the more the past came back to haunt him. When he pulled up outside the apartment building, knowing the Sam was inside sleeping somewhere, he couldn't resist himself. He found Sam's apartment, picked the lock, and easily slipped inside.

He breathed in deeply the instant he stood inside the door. The smell of Sam was all over. His cologne, his shampoo, just that rugged musky smell that was just naturally Sam. He missed that smell, more than he realized, more than he wished to admit.

At first, he walked slowly through the different rooms. He stopped first in the kitchen. It was small, but clean and had a feminine touch that had Dean scratching his head. Sam wasn't exactly anti-clean like Dean was, but it was a bit too clean and too feminine even for Sam. He shook his head, thinking maybe it was left over from the previous tenant before walking out into the living room. It was a pretty good size with an L-shaped couch, recliner, TV stand, and a coffee table. He raised his eyebrow at the little knick-knacks set all over the place and the doily in the middle of the coffee table.

"What the hell, Sammy?" he muttered to himself.

He let out a huff and turned around and his eye caught a picture. His brow furrowed as he moved towards it quickly. He winced when he accidentally knocked into the coffee table and a knick-knack fell off. He reached down to pick it up, quickly setting it back on the table, before darting past the table and the doorway of the hall that led to the bedroom and bathroom. He stopped in front of the picture and his breath quickly caught in his throat.

Sam…and a woman.

She was a blonde haired, blue-eyed bomb with an amazing figure. She came up roughly to Sam's shoulders and had her arms wrapped around his waist. His were around her shoulders, his cheek resting on the top of her head. Both of them were smiling like they didn't have a care in the world. The only thing there was the love radiating off of them.

"Sam," Dean murmured, reaching out carefully to lightly touch the picture.

Why did it hurt so much to see this picture? He wanted Sam to be happy and he could tell from this picture that he was. So why was he jealous? Sam left four years ago. As much as he hadn't wanted to see him go, it was better all around that he had. Things that were happening between Sam and their dad, between Sam and him, were just some things that the Winchester family couldn't take. John didn't know what was wrong with his sons. The eighteen year old got more and more rebellious and the twenty-two year old got more and more closed-off. Nothing could get through to either of them. The secret hung over their heads like heavy rain clouds, putting a wedge in the family, yet it drew the brothers closer than anything ever had before. They just had to hide it from John.

The thoughts broke from Dean's mind as he heard a small squeak of a floorboard.

_Fuck!_ he thought, snapping his arm away from the picture and darting back across the room. It was Sam, he knew it. No matter how long it's been since they'd seen each other, Dean can sense when he's close, sense when he's getting nearer.

He hid around the corner as Sam walked into the room with a baseball bat. He rolled his eyes, knowing he'd have to get the bat away from him so he didn't get his face knocked in.

He slowly crept up behind him, but he knew it was the wrong move as soon as he got closer because Sam swung around, the bat raised. Dean quickly grabbed it and yanked it hard from Sam's hands. He heard Sam's angry huff before a kick was sent to his chest. He went crashing back into the wall, but whirled away when Sam's fist came towards him. He sent his fist to Sam's gut, making him double over (and Dean wince at the pain he caused his brother), and Dean threw out his leg, knocking him to the ground. Dean landed on him, his arms on Sam's wrists, his knees holding his legs to the ground.

Dean smirked down at his little brother. "Easy, tiger," he said.

He saw Sam's eyes widened as he strained to see Dean's face. "Dean?" he panted out.

Dean gulped and laughed. "Hi, little brother. Gettin' a little rusty there, 'ey, Sammy?"

He was grunting the next second as Sam knocked him onto his back, their positions switched as Sam landed on him. He gulped again and tried not to let Sam see his discomfort.

"I stand corrected," Dean said. "Now let me up."

Sam sat there a second longer before sliding off Dean and standing up. Dean groaned slightly as his back twitched and he stood up as Sam flipped the light on.

"Dean, what're you doing here?" Sam asked him, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Dean sighed. "Dad's hasn't been home in a few days," he said, cutting right to the point. What's the use of drawing things out? The emotions swirling through his head didn't exactly give him room to be thinking clearly and he just wanted Sam to deny his request for help so he could leave.

"He's always gone for a few days. He's probably in some remote cabin with Jack and Jose."

Dean sighed. "It's different this time," he said.

Before Sam could answer, he turned as soft footsteps came up behind him.

"Sam?" a woman's voice asked. "What's going on?"

She stepped around him and Dean instantly recognized her as the girl from the picture he was looking at earlier. He smirked at her and let his eyes drag over her smooth legs and full breasts.

"Hello," he said.

Sam sighed. "Jessica, this is Dean."

Her eyes widened. "Your _brother_, Dean?" she asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jess."

Dean smiled. "I love the Smurfs," he said, pointing to her shirt.

She raised an eyebrow. "I—uh—I'll go put something on."

"No, no, I wouldn't dream of it." He smirked. "You know, you are way out of my brother's league."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Alright, enough. Now Dean, what's really going on?"

Dean sighed. "I told you. Dad hasn't been home in a few days." He glanced at Jessica, then back to Sam. "Maybe we should talk about this alone."

Sam shook his head. "Whatever you can say to me, you can say to her."

Dean glared. "Dad went on a _hunting_ trip...and he hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam's breath caught in his throat. He stared Dean down, waiting for him to laugh and say it was some kind of Dean-type prank, but Dean just continued to glare. "Jess, excuse us," he said softly.

Jessica nodded. "Alright. I'll be in the bedroom." She gently kissed Sam on the lips, making Dean roll his eyes and look away, starting towards the front door. Inside, though, he cringed and he fought not to let his hands ball into fists.

He heard Sam quickly follow after him as he walked down to the Impala.

.x.x.x.x.

Dean thought that everything would be okay. He thought that hunting together would make Sam want to stay with him, to start back up, maybe help find their dad. But he didn't. He finished that job and then went back to Jessica. Deep down Dean knew he would, he just hoped more than anything that he wouldn't.

During the job, awkward moments didn't exist. It was as if they were teenagers again and everything made sense the way it should. But the emotions were there, at the back of their minds, or well at least Dean's. Did Sam not _remember _what happened? Dean was starting to believe he didn't or didn't care. He had Jessica, so what would he need with those emotions that were illegal in this country?

However, as much as it hurt Dean to watch Sam walk up those steps and back to Jessica, he never wanted Sam to come back to hunting with him like this. The instant Sam walked through that door, he started to drive away, but he suddenly slammed on the breaks. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong and he could feel it. Something evil was lurking in Sam's apartment building and Dean had a feeling it was after his brother.

He threw his car into park and raced up to Sam's apartment just as it burst into flames. He dragged Sam from the building, all the while Sam screaming Jessica's name in his ear. Dean felt tears gather in the bottom of his eyes at how heartbroken Sam sounded and looked. He looked hollow, warn out, and Dean knew that even though Sam doesn't remember what happened to their mother, he still feels the pain, he still feels the ghost of his mother's death standing over his shoulder.

Dean's instincts kicked into gear as they drove towards Blackwater Ridge. Sam didn't sleep, he just stared at the road, barely blinking. Dean wasn't even sure if he was breathing, but he hasn't keeled over yet, so Dean was satisfied.

Protect Sammy, that's all he cared about.

.x.x.x.x.

As time progressed on, the further and further Sam seemed to pull from Dean. Dean wasn't exactly clingy, but it scared him. Mostly because he thought that what had happened before he left for Stanford didn't matter to Sam and that practically killed him. It meant more to him than any other relationship he's ever had.

_Relationship,_ he thought with a start. He had never thought of what they had, what they had done as a relationship before. A fling, maybe, yeah. An affair is the best term for it. But a relationship? Never. Brothers can't _have_ relationships. _It's illegal,_ he thought. It's wrong and filthy and—but no, that's not how Dean felt about it. Wrong? No. Filthy? Never. What he had with Sammy could never be constituted as either of those things.

_Amazing,_ he thought with a sigh. Sam, the affair they had, was amazing.

He's a hunter. He's supposed to close himself off. The things that happened in his past messed him up so he's not able to move on and vengeance in the only thing that he can think about. So where does Sam fit into that? Obviously nowhere, or what they have wouldn't have ended. Sam wouldn't have left. And Dean would be with the person he lo—

Sam woke with a start, interrupting Dean's thought process, and looked up at the ceiling with haunted eyes. Dean looked up at him, his eyes momentarily leaving his book as he studied his brother.

"Why'd you let me fall asleep?" Sam murmured.

Dean sighed and shut the book with a snap, setting it on the table. He swung his legs up and set them on top the book. "Because I'm an awesome brother," Dean said. "What'd you dream about, anyway?"

"Lollipops and candy canes," Sam whispered sarcastically.

"Dude, what's going on with you? You don't sleep and when you do, you have nightmares that you won't tell me about."

"I'm fine, Dean," Sam grumbled. He sat up, rubbing his brown eyes until the soft skin around them was red. He stood up and went over to grab a half-drunken bottle of Bug Light off the dresser, drinking down the rest of it quickly. He pressed his eyes together tightly as his throat worked over the liquid. Dean watched him carefully as he set the bottle down, ran a hand through his shaggy hair, then opened his eyes.

"Talk to me, Sammy," Dean pushed. He let his feet fall to the ground and he stood up. "You're not getting out of it that easy."

Sam sighed. "Just…leave it alone, Dean, I'm serious."

"Yeah? Well so am I. I'm just trying to help you, man, and you keep pushing me away."

"I don't need your help."

"Yeah, I think you do. You're moody and depressed. What happened to that happy-go-lucky kid you used to be?"

"He died with Jessica."

Dean sighed. "I know it's hard, but dude, you hafta get over her. She'll always be with you, but she'd want you to be happy. You and I both know that. The nightmares will only go away when you let them."

Sam looked over at Dean through narrowed eyes. "Since when are you Mr. Philosophy?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not. You're my brother. I'm trying to help. You don't want it, fine, do what you want." He stomped around Sam and towards the bathroom, grabbing his duffle on the way.

"Dean," Sam said, exasperated.

Dean knew he was being childish by just walking away like that, but the fact that he couldn't help Sam was killing him. How was he supposed to protect him from his own mind? He just wanted to hold him and make everything bad go away.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he slammed the door and locked it. He leaned back against it, jumping slightly as Sam started knocking on the other side of it.

"Dean, c'mon, open the door." Nothing. Dean remained where he was and focused on his breathing. More than ever he wanted to open the door, draw Sam into his arms, kiss the life out of him, and make Sam forget about Jessica. He wanted Sam to remember what they once had. He just wanted _Sam_. "Please? C'mon, I'm sorry, I know you were just trying to help. I appreciate it, honestly. It's just not that easy."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut.

_Not easy?_ he thought. _Of course it's not easy! You think it's easy for me to be around you and not be able to touch you the way I want to? You think it's easy for me to know that the person you're mourning over isn't me and our failed relationship, but the death of your girlfriend? You think I want to remember how perfect you guys looked together, much better than we'll ever look together? No, Sam, nothing's easy. I want you so badly, but it seems like you're just far enough away that I can't reach you, that I can't pull you and make everything better. God, Sammy, this is all so fucked up. You're my _baby brother_. I shouldn't want any of this from you, but I need you. I need you, Sammy. I need you. _I love you.

He mouth was pressed tightly so he didn't burst any of that out loud. He listened as Sam sighed in defeat and moved away.

Why shouldn't he say that out loud, though? There was one point that Sam felt the exact same thing he did. Sam never protested as they kissed or made love. At one time, Sam wanted and needed Dean just as much as Dean wanted and needed him.

And Dean wanted to know what happened to that.

With a loud bang, Dean had unlocked the door and threw it open against the wall. Sam jumped from where he was sitting on the bed, his wide eyes turning to look at his furious older brother.

"What the—"

"Do you even remember?" Dean spat.

"Remember what?" Sam asked, completely clueless to why Dean was suddenly irate.

Dean laughed humorlessly. "Of course you don't remember. It was the most amazing time of my life, and you could've cared less."

"Dean, what're you—"

"Before you left, Sam!" he yelled. "What happened before you left, _that's_ what I'm talking about!"

Sam's mouth quickly snapped shut and he quickly caught the breath he had and he slowly sat back down on the bed. "Oh."

Dean shook his head. "That's all you hafta say? I'm talking about us _together_ and you say, 'oh'?"

"What am I supposed to say?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth a couple times before shaking his head. "I don't know," he spat. "Something more than 'oh.'" He closed his eyes and rubbed the arch between them. "You don't even care though, do you?" Dean asked, his voice lower.

Sam looked up abruptly at the sudden emotional tone to Dean's voice.

Dean shook his head. "This is stupid. This shouldn't be happening. We're brothers. We're blood. But Sam…I can't get that time of us together out of my head." He looked up at Sam, his eyes troubled. "Tell me right now that you don't care. Tell me...and I'll never mention it again."

Sam looked at Dean for just a moment longer before standing up slowly and stepping in front of his brother.

"Dean," he said. "You think I could've forgotten that? You think it would just slip my mind?" He shook his head. "Do you honestly think that just because I left means that I lost every feeling I've ever had for you."

Dean bit his lip. "I don't know. You seemed to be pretty in love with Jessica. You could've fooled me."

Sam took a step closer. "I've never lost any ounce of passion I had for you," he whispered. "I had to move on. We were miles away from each other. We had never been apart before and suddenly we were ripped away. Jessica was the first person I ever met at Stanford. She didn't know that I was in love with my brother, but she knew that I had been hurt, and she helped me. I fell in love with her compassion. She's the only person I could call 'friend' without any strings attached. But if you think that I could just stop caring about you, stop remembering _us_, you must be insane."

Dean looked at him, flabbergast. "You love me?" he whispered.

After Sam had said that, that's all Dean knew and it was repeating over and over in his head. Sam never forgot about them. He never let go of his feelings for Dean.

Sam nodded. "I always have, Dean."

Dean didn't let Sam say anything else. He grabbed Sam's arm and before he knew what was happening, their lips were crashing into each other. Dean eagerly brought his brother closer as teeth, tongue, and lips fought a battle that had no true outcome.

The meaning of the word "brother" took on a whole new meaning for the Winchesters at that moment. Family is the first and foremost meaning of it, as they had always honored. Dean would take care of Sam, watch over him, make sure he was safe. But as their kiss went on and progressed into an act much more passionate, the word "love" added itself into the definition. Most brothers love each other, but these brothers love went beyond family, beyond normalcy.

But they were okay with that. Since when were the Winchesters normal?


End file.
